It’s hard not to find ways to be content
  when sleeping outdoors in a tent.
Morning coffee amongst the mist and dew,
  alive and ready to ride the day anew.

Excalibur was in camp for all to see
  standing by to dig in an emergency.
But nobody wants to slink in a shameful state
  into the woods to excavate.

It was a perfect morn, until I knew
  fermenting inside was a potent brew.
Having recently savored ale and stew,
  the need became urgent for a number two.

I set forth with spade firmly in hand,
  found a good spot to dig, mostly in sand.
The details that follow, I’ll not convey to you
  except that the best part was the glorious view.

First rays of sun on maple and pine,
  lake reflections sent a chill up my spine.
The moment though short-lived, is forever mine
  connected to nature, our sacred shrine.

 Returning victorious, my scepter the trowel,
  thankful for its role and feeling quite well.
Excalibur did the job like a champ,
  leaving nary a trace as we departed camp.